"You can get one while you're in town if you like," went on Bruce
dryly, "for I'm going to drag you off to town, Tom."

"Good! I'm with you. Mind now," he cautioned his chums, "don't touch
that wig until I get back."

They promised, and, though wondering what Bruce had in mind, they asked
no questions.

"I guess it's safe to run the guard to-night," remarked Bruce, as he
and Tom crossed the campus on their way to the trolley line running
into Elmwood.

"Oh, sure," assented our hero. "But what's in the wind?"

"I'm going to prove to you that it would be bad policy to make a class
matter of sending Sam to Coventry, or of trying to run him out of the
school. And to do that I invite you to have a little lunch with me in
town."

"All right," assented Tom, wondering what his friend had in store for
him.

A little later they were seated in a private room in one of the Elmwood
restaurants much patronized by the students. Bruce ordered a tasty
little lunch, and they were in the midst of eating it when there came
the sound of several lads entering the next room. There was talk and
laughter, somewhat boisterous, and then a voice exclaimed: